U Pick
by gythia
Summary: Sheridan has some unexpected roadside fun on Minbar.


U Pick

"Stop the motorcade," Sheridan said. The Minbari driver did not understand him. Sheridan turned to Delenn. "Tell him to stop the motorcade."

"Why? We're going to be late."

"So I can prove to myself I'm not seeing things."

"Alright." Delenn gave the order and the ground vehicles pulled to the side of the road. "Now what is this about?"

"I swear I saw a cornfield back there."

"John. We are on Minbar."

"I know, I know. I've just got to see. They're not going to start without me."

"It is rude to arrive late at a dinner given in your honor."

"I won't be long." He got out and walked down the road. A Minbari from the rear vehicle tried to follow him as a bodyguard, but Sheridan waved him back to the groundcar.

He walked alongside a field growing some unfamiliar Minbari crop until he got to a side road. On the other side, sure enough, was a cornfield.

A Minbari female in the plainest dress he had ever seen on a Minbari stood in the lane, staring at the cornfield and crying.

Of course Sheridan had to check it out. He walked up to her and said hello in English, and then awkwardly tried to say it in Adronato, Delenn's language.

The female turned to him. "Hello," she responded, in English.

"Your corn looks great."

"Is that what it is? This was my husband's project. He left records about what kind of seed he bought, but not which was planted where."

"Ah. He's um, no longer…here?"

"No. I don't know what to do with all this."

"Was he planning to supply human food for the new capital of the Interstellar Alliance?"

"Yes. And some other alien crops, as well. He thought there would be a good market for it, since importing it from their homeworlds would be expensive. The shipping, you know."

"It's a good idea."

"I don't know how to tell when it's ripe."

"Well, that's no problem. Why don't you put out a U Pick sign by the highway? I don't know about any other races, but I guarantee you the humans who care about food will know what to do."

"You mean invite the customers to pick the crops themselves? But the people at the new capital will be diplomats. Important people."

Sheridan smiled. "Tell you what. Let me be your first customer."

"Thank you."

He walked into the cornfield and picked a few ears. "These are perfect. What else have you got besides corn?"

"Many things. If you would tell me which crop name goes with which plant, you can have a basket of each for free."

"That's a deal."

"Climb on the back of my flyer. You can put your corn in the hopper."

They flew to several fields. There was melon, lettuce, tomatoes, even pumpkins. Sheridan tried to explain the ceremonial use of pumpkins, but it even sounded odd to him when he tried, so he gave up and related a few anecdotes about his family farm.

At the end of the field tour they fetched up at the farmhouse, and the female called her daughter to help load things from the flyer's hopper into boxes and baskets for the helpful human to take with him.

The daughter came out carrying a stack of boxes, and stopped and stared dumbfounded. "Could I take your picture?"

"Sure," he said, arranging his produce.

The girl ran back to the house.

This had been a fortuitous stop. He didn't care if he was late to give his speech. He could send people back here to get supplies for the house. There were plenty of human Rangers on Minbar, he could send some of them. A little honest work wouldn't hurt them.

The Minbari child came back out with her camera and started snapping pictures. "I'm going to be a famous photographer," she said. "This is my big break."

Her mother shook her head. "Her latest craze. She discovered the human custom called journalism."

"Mm. Too bad," Sheridan said. "Farming's a more honest way to make a living."

"See, honey? Listen to the nice human."

"You left the farm," said the girl. "You were called to the military caste."

"True enough," he admitted, as the child continued to take photos of him with various vegetables.

"And now you're a politician. All I know about human culture is what I see on vid, and even I know nobody thinks that's an honest way to make a living."

He laughed. "You've got me there, kid."

"Mother, may I fly him to his groundcar?"

"You may come along if you wish. I won't have you upset the flyer with our guest in it."

The three of them took the ground-skimming harvest flyer back up the road to the motorcade. He knocked on the door of the rear vehicle, and ordered the boxes loaded into the cargo compartment.

While the loading was going on, Delenn got out of the middle groundcar and walked up to them. The child snapped some photos of her, too.

The Minbari farmer make an inarticulate noise as she recognized her, and cast her gaze to the ground in respect.

Delenn said, "You've gotten your sleeves dirty."

He brushed himself off. "This place is incredible, Delenn. Wait til you see what we can do with what I found. I'll see about getting some recipes from Garibaldi for the cooks."

"John. This is a formal occasion. You could at least have taken off your jacket if you were going to go rooting about in the dirt."

"I wasn't rooting. And anyway, I couldn't very well walk around half naked, now could I?"

"If you are worried about appearing undignified, you should have thought of that before you started doing—labor."

"There's nothing wrong with a little honest work. It's good for ya."

"Just get in the car." The two of them climbed into the middle vehicle.

It dawned on the Minbari farmer just who had been out standing in her field. She stared as the motorcade pulled away.

Her daughter said, "I'm selling these photos to Universe Today."

"That was—that was—"

"Come on! I have to get on the uplink right away and send in a sample picture!"

The End


End file.
